Bastas the Easily Bored
by Camelica
Summary: This is the story of how Bast met Kvothe - or rather chased him down! (In wait for "day 3" i decided to put down in words how i imagined their friendship started. Enjoy!)
1. The Storyteller

_**Authors**_ _ **note:** I recently read a fanfic of how Bast and Kvothe met and I realized, although I liked the story, that I always imaged Bast coming to look for Kvothe. Here's my take of the story. _

_(If you are curios to the one that inspired me, you can find it here:_ s/7303837/1/ _, Thank you Cailin na hEireann)_

 _Well, let us begin!_

...

Bast had left the Fae behind almost a year ago – to be fair it did bore him. Not that the magic wasn't wonderful or the mysteries mysterious but growing up there had made it normal. And normal was boring, at least to Bast. So he had ventured out into the mortal realm to find the wonders within. And he had loved it! For about a year, now it was boring. He did enjoy catching girls but it was fairly easy, him being from Fae and all, and even though it was a fair pastime it didn't always give him the satisfaction he sought.

He didn't know it then but he was chasing a meaning, a purpose. And as all good adventures starts so did this one – with a story.

...

Bast had ventured in to a bar in the city of Tarbean . It was a filthy place in the Dockside part of town – but it suited Bast's mood and he wouldn't mind a few bar fights tonight. As he was on his second drink the whole place quieted down and he looked around confused.

"Perhaps you have heard of Kvothe the Arcane and Kvothe the Bloodless. But have you heard the story of Kvothe the Trouper?" A voice in the far corner said, the sound of his voice easily traveling through the whole bar. Bast felt a tickle of recognition at the mention of the name "Kvothe", it sounded so familiar but he couldn't place it. Looking around again, he now noticed the children that had gathered around the Storyteller, they were digging in their purses and he realized that they were paying for drinks for the Storyteller. He dug in his purse and stepped up to the bar placing a whole silver talent on top of the disk. The children looked stupefied and he winked at them.

"Why, thank you, young man!" The Storyteller said and looked at him. And then he really looked, and saw. He saw Bastas, the faeling, the hooves and the eyes. Bast was surprised – not many manlings knew how to see through a glamour. The Storyteller smiled. "You are a long way from home..." He left out the word "faeling" but Bast heard it clear as day.

"Well, we ran out of stories back home and I had to go catch some new ones!" he said.

"There is no such thing as running out of stories, in fact there is only One story.." The children started to fidget nervously, waiting for the story. "But.. That's a tale for a different day." The Storyteller said seeing them. "Have a seat, my friend and I will tell you how the Great Kvothe came to be."

Bast nodded and went back to his seat.

"Not that long ago, because Kvothe is a hero of this age and a young one at that, a traveling troupe made it's way through Commonwealth."


	2. The Beginning of Kvothe

"The troupe was a happy one, they had a good name and were one of the best, perhaps even _the_ best traveling troupe. They were led by Arliden and Laurian – both who's simplest songs could break the toughest mans heart and make any woman fall in love. You may have heard of them?

Arliden and Laurian were the heart of the troupe and led them passionately through the lands earning them fame and fortune. During their travels it came to be that Laurian got pregnant. This was a happy time for the troupe and they all prepared for the birth and the celebration to come, as was their custom.

As nine months passed in to ten they all started to worry, why wouldn't Laurian go in to labor? They all shared their tricks and knowledge of how to get a baby out of the womb but nothing worked. Eventually Arliden decided to take them all to a place only known to the Edema Ruh, to an old woman no one knows the name of." The Storyteller sipped his drink and Bast thought to himself that the story was a bit much but he stayed as he didn't like missing the endings of stories.

"All we know next is that the old woman took Laurian away from the rest of the troupe and when she returned she had a baby cradled in her arms, it was a boy with fire in his hair and the greenest eyes you have ever seen. They all loved him from the first moment they laid eyes upon him, his mother and father even more.

It is said that that extra time spent in his mother's womb aged Kvothe beyond his years and made him wise. It is also said that the old lady gave Kvothe his name – it means " _to know_ " - and by doing so she made sure that he knew things no other mortal would.

Kvothe grew up a happy child and learn the traits of all the people in his troupe. He picked it up so quick that soon his parents had to hire teachers from all across the world to keep his curiosity for knowledge satisfied. Most loved but also most feared was the old arcanist that taught Kvothe all the secrets known only to the Arcanum. But even knowing this Kvothe couldn't be stopped in his curiosity and thirst for knowledge. In the attempt to please their child Arliden and Laurian travelled the world in search for old and new knowledge for their son to learn. It was during one of these trips that Kvothe stumbled upon knowledge best left unknown." The Storyteller trailed off staring pointedly to his empty drink. The children started to dig in their purses again but the barman held up his hand to stop them, the silver talent paid for more than one drink. He turned and filled the Storytellers wineglass again.

"Where were we?" He said after taking a big drink out of the glass. "Yes... Knowledge best left unknown. Would you like to know what he found?" The children nodded and Bast found himself nodding too. "Me too, but no one but Kvothe knows. However, I will tell you what little I know of it. It is said that he found an old scroll containing very old knowledge long forgotten to man. He was so excited to know what no other knew and in his excitement he decided to tell the rest of his troupe. He went from person to person and shared the knowledge, repeating it out loud for everyone of them to hear, again and again. But this was the worst thing he could've done. You see, who ever wrote the scroll had buried the knowledge for a reason and didn't want any man to have the power that the knowledge gave. So one night when Kvothe was asleep they came and they killed the troupe. Every last one of them until only Kvothe was left, but they could not kill him, for he knew all the secrets of the Arcanum and was wise beyond his years. But neither could Kvothe kill them, for they held knowledge long forgotten and they ended at an impasse. The sorrow of losing his parents and his troupe tore Kvothe apart and he swore that he would learn all that is to learn and defeat them.

And that is the story of how it all began. The story of how Kvothe started the quest for knowledge long forgotten with sorrow and revenge buried deep in his heart. The beginning of the story that took him to the university, the Fae and all across the world. The beginning of Kvothe himself."

The Storyteller drained the last of his wine and turned the glass upside-down on top of the bar. At this signal the children slowly began to leave, chatting excitedly about the story they just heard. Bast even thought he saw some of the children with tears in their eyes as he worked his way towards the Storyteller.

"How did you like it?" He asked Bast.

"Very storybook! But I guess it was good."

"You guess? Come back when you know!"

"I might. But for now I have a few questions..."

"Is that so? Well, for a silver talent you have bought me drinks for the whole night and I wouldn't dare refuse one of your kind." He said and Bast couldn't decide if he was honest or sarcastic.

"How wise of you!" Bast said with a dangeourus spark in his eyes. "Is it true?"

"What?"

"The story. Is is true?"

"All stories are true." The Storyteller shrugged.

"Answer properly!" He growled and the Storyteller felt goosebumps rise all over his body.

"Most, but not all." Came the quick answer.

"Hmm." Bast looked thoughtful. "Who is Kvothe?"

"I just told you."

"No. I know his name but I can't place him."

The Storyteller chuckled. "Being what you are you might have heard of his adventures with Felurian."

It all fell in to place for Bast then. The man who had refused Felurian and lived. "Tell me more about him." Bast said.

"No, one story a night. Everyday except Mourning." The Storyteller said and looked at Bast with those seeing eyes again.

"Who were 'they'?"

"Who?"

"The one's who killed his troupe."

"I don't know. The story doesn't say."

Bast face fell at this answer and he only nodded his acknowledgment to the Storyteller before he turned and went out the door.


	3. The Last Night in Tarbean

Bast found himself thinking about the story of _Kvothe the Trouper_ a lot during the next few days and eventually he gave up and decided to go back to the bar. The Storyteller hade a knowing smirk and gave Bast a nod when he stepped in through the door, his eyes said that he'd known that Bast would find his way back for more stories. Bast didn't get more than that thought before the children caught the old storytellers attention again as they tried to convey what kind of story they wanted to hear. Bast couldn't make sense of what they said since everyone spoke at the same time and a small smile played briefly on his lips. As the Storyteller raised his hand they all quieted and Bast guessed that it was part of what had become a ritual around the storytelling.

"I think we need a story about Kvothe. Now I know we had one the other day…" he said to the protests coming from a few children "…but this one needs telling, I think." Some of the children looked sullen but they soon came around as he started telling the story. Bast had planned to study the Storyteller, trying to glean something about who this man was and why he came here to tell stories, but as the story progressed he found himself engrossed and forgot about everything but what Kvothe would do next.

This night Bast left with the children not wanting to admit how much he enjoyed the story. The next day he couldn't think about anything else but the story and he found himself drawn to the bar that night and several nights after that. The Storyteller only told stories about Kvothe and Bast couldn't figure out if it was because he was there or simply because the old man felt like it – he doubted that he would get a straight answer if he asked. Every night he got a nod or a smile as he stepped in through the door and every night Bast slipped out with the children – every night except for the very last he spent in Tarbean.

…

Bast came in a bit late and had missed the usual rite of drab, jots and suggestions from the children but he could tell that story had just started. Ordering a watered down beer – it wasn't like they served anything good at the bar anyway – he sat down to listen.

"…Her song was like nothing they had ever heard. It was a strange yet appealing melody that made you think of…" The Storyteller looked sideways at the children "…things you enjoy very much.".

"Pie!" One of the boys said out loud only to turn bright red and look down at the floor. They all knew that you didn't interrupt the Storyteller, if he got mad he wouldn't finish his story no matter how many drinks you paid for. But this time he simply laughed. "Yes, pie… and other nightly pastimes." He said and winked at the adult part of the audience. "But that is not what I will talk about – I will leave that for your imagination. I will instead tell you of how Kvothe held a song hostage to make Felurian do his bidding and let him out of the Fae."

"We wanna hear about the other parts! Felurian's parts in particular!" A fairly drunk man said in the back with a glint in his eyes. The Storyteller turned around and gave him a look that made him shrink in to a pathetic pile of a man. Bast chuckled quietly to himself - he always appreciated someone, whether he was Fae or Man, who could wield that kind of power without any Glammourie or Grammarie. Few people know how little it takes to get a manling to do your bidding. And, Bast thought to himself, it didn't really take that much to get a Fae to do your bidding either – not if you knew a few tricks.

"Do you people want to hear the story or not?" the Storyteller turned his stare towards the rest of the room. They all looked away and tried to look as tiny as possible – everyone but Bast who flashed him one of his biggest most charming smiles. "Yes, please!" He said the words sticky with allure.

And the Storyteller laughed. It was one of those good laughs that comes from deep in the belly and shakes a man and booms around the room muffling all other sounds. The room was utterly quiet except for the laughing Storyteller. Soon the people grew uncomfortable and started fidgeting and when the laughter stopped long enough for the Storyteller to draw a breath they started talking. It sounded loud and had an undertone of panic. The children looked around and when the young boy who said "Pie" left in a hurry they all soon turned to joined him. The Storytellers laugh turned in to a chuckle and he waved Bast over.

"Lemme buy you a drink! I haven't had that much fun since the Tehilin priests had to let me go!" He waved at the bartender. "What are you drinking, kid?"

"Kid?" Bast blanched at that. "Do you know how old I am?"

The old man shrugged. "Well…?"

"Surprise me!" Bast said halfheartedly and sat down next to the man. He waved at the bartender again and Bast got a pretty good brandy put in front of him.

"Sorry you didn't get to hear the story." The old man said and looked at him from the corner of his eye.

"I've heard it." Bast said nonchalantly and the Storyteller just nodded at that.

"Do you know any stories about the Prince of Twilight?" Bast asked him with a hunger in his words.

"Why do you ask?" he turned and looked Bast right in the eyes. Bast held his gaze for a long time, long past what is normally seen as comfortable among men, finally the old man chuckled again and looked away.

"Most men would not dare match wits with a faerie." Bast said.

"I'm not most men." He took a big drink out his wine glass.

"I've noticed."

"So…" The Storyteller said his tone applying a change of subject. "When are you leaving?"

"What? I'm not..?" Bast looked genuinely surprised.

"Well..?" he asked and as Bast paused to think he realized he actually was leaving. He'd been on his way since that night he heard the first story of Kvothe. He looked at the old Storyteller again, as he had done every night, trying to see who he was. But however much he tried all he saw was an old Storyteller. The old man winked at him which made Bast snap out of his thoughts.

"Tomorrow. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Mhm. Took you long enough."

Bast shrugged. "Do you know where I'll find him?"

"You tell me." He said with a smile. " _You're_ the faerie!"

"That I am!" Bast smiled back, downed his drink and patted the Storytellers upper arm before he turned to leave.

For one that was looking closely he would've seen a young, handsome man exiting the bar with a spring in his step. However for someone who was actually seeing the world for what it was he would've seen a pair of hooves instead of legs flash by behind the coat as the fair man stepped out through the door and in to the night.


	4. The Journey Begins

Bast did not have the patience to wait for the city to wake up and the stores to open so he left Tarbean in the middle of the night and was now making his way northeast. He felt at ease and found himself whistling as he walked, it was good to have a goal again. The Faen court had almost driven him mad with all their intrigues and politics but Tarbean with its filth and manlings weren't really an improvement – except for the women and the stories. So he felt really good to be back on the road with the wind in his hair, far away from crowds. As dawn made herself known he tried to figure out where he could find Kvothe – The man who knew almost everything and never seemed to have had a boring moment in his life. It did seem to Bast that a man like that wouldn't stay in one place for very long. Perhaps he should try the University first, if he weren't there they might know where he had gone. Did Kvothe visit Ademre before or after he saved the King of Vint? Did he go back to the University before or after that? Did he really go to the University several times? Bast realized that the stories had given him a good knowledge of who Kvothe was, but not when and where he might find him. He sighed and decided to start at the University in lack of a better plan.

As the sun rose high he sat down under an old oak tree, his belly grumbling. Rummaging around in his travel sack he found some stale bread and a forgotten apple – not much of a meal – but he ate it anyway washing it down with a deep red wine he had in his wineskin. At least he'd kept that filled and cared for. Less hungry and high spirited he slung his sack over the shoulder and started to walk again. Along the way he cut saplings and with proficiency cut them in to pipes in different lengths, he then cut grass and bound them all together. Playing a note he winced and groomed some of the pipes with his knife, he then repeated the procedure again and again. When he was satisfied he smiled a big smile and put away his knife. His look faded far away for a while and then he struck up a tune and started to dance. For the manlings meeting and passing him on the big road it would seem like he was dancing and running and skipping at the same time in a graceful, almost hypnotic, way – for Bast it was just a way of passing the time along the long boring road.

He walked and walked without a care in the world. If it was one thing he was good at it was being care free. Everything always worked out – food, sleep, money, manlings were easy to fool. As the afternoon turned in to dusk he found a farm not far from the road. That barn probably meant that there was a village close by that most certainly had an in – since it was a big and well-traveled road. The farm was big however and Bast thought he might get a place to sleep, it would be nice not to have to walk any further. As he got close he glimpsed a young woman trying to get a billy-goat in to the barn for the night. The buck was struggling and didn't seem cooperative at all and the young woman, who probably was the maid, had a coat of sweat on her forehead. Her sunshine colored hair was beautifully braided and a bit tussled after a day's work. She was tugging so hard on the rope that was tied around the goats neck that she almost hung from it, her heels having made deep gorges in the dirt. Bast took it all in in a heartbeat, his eyes resting comfortably on the lovely maid. He raised his pipes and played a short encouraging tune, his eyes still on the woman. The goat perked his ears and then simply trudged in to the barn – the maid who was still in the middle of a tug-a-war fell flat on her bum with an astonished expression that quickly turned red as Bast walked in to her line of sight.

"Hello!" He said and held out his hand to help her up. "Are you alright?"  
"Eh.. yes.. Yes, I am. Thank you." He beamed at her and she looked at a loss for words. He winked and she blushed again looking down.  
"What is your name, fair lady?"  
"I'm no lady, sir. Just a simple maid."  
"Perhaps no lady, but you are still fair and far from simple." This time Bast caught her chin keeping her from looking away as she blushed a beautiful reddish-pink. Her eyes were a deep but bright gray, they held many smiles and giggles. "What is your name?"  
"You are the stranger here, sir, tell me your name first. And why you are here."  
"I saw a maiden in distress, troubled by a fearsome horned and bearded beast, and I could not turn away without rescuing her."  
"Well, you were a bit late - the maiden fell on her ass and made a fool out of herself. But the stranger still wouldn't share his name."  
He chuckled. "I am sorry – I'll be quicker the next time. You may call me Bast."  
"Welcome Bast, I'm Lillie."  
"Lillie." He tasted the word. "Hello, Lillie." She looked at him, lost in his dark eyes. "I was wondering if I might get a meal and a place to sleep for the night. I will work for it."  
"I'll have to ask the matron, but surly she will say yes." She still held his eyes taking shallow breaths.  
"I hope so." Bast said with a voice full of promise. As Lillie turned to go look for the matron Bast studied her well-made dress and what it concealed. He leaned his back against the barn lifting his pipes again – he played a melody that was both a hunt and a capture. For a first day it had been a fairly good one – and he was hoping for an even better first night.


	5. Braids and Beauty

_**Authors note:**_ _I'm sorry for not writing frequently, I'm a university student and it feels like most of my time is either spent_ _reading sciency-stuff or writing essays and exams – kinda as far from fan-fic-inspirational as you get._

 _This bit of the story has been lurking in my head a while though. I've always had a feeling that if Bast looked at me he would se what is beautiful, no matter what beauty-norms that society has – and every man and woman need a little appreciation once in a while. So this is me, getting Bast to be a bit appreciative._

 _And this is also me appreciating The Ghostly Horse for help with grammar and other wordy-stuff. Check out her stories (especially the KKC!) she's a really good writer! If Bast is the one dealing with glammorie and grammarie, this gal will get the grammar-y done!_

 _And ppl – thanks for reading! You're amazing! 3_

 _..._

Chapter 5 - Braids and Beauty

He stretched and yawned. Nimble as a cat he got up from under the blanket without waking her, the hay barely rustling. He looked at her blond hair and smiled at the fond pictures it gave him – her beautiful braids had all come undone during their night together. It was still night outside, but Dawn was waiting around the corner ready to start the day. Bast, however, had always had some difficulty with the manling sun coming and going. The moon he understood, but the sun? Because of this difficulty – or perhaps he just wasn't used to it – he woke and went to bed when it suited him – and not when it suited the sun. It was however a very convenient way of telling time, if you had the need for that. He rarely did though. Still musing on the rules of the manlings sun he grabbed his pipes and jumped down, not even throwing the ladder a glance. He walked up to the cows piping them a good morning.

He had been playing his pipes for a while and was milking the last of the three cows as Lillie climbed down the ladder. He looked appreciatively at her strong legs from his view point and marveled at her lack of shyness. Yesterday she had blushed merely from looking at him – he guessed that they were past that by now. He stopped playing his pipes and let go of the teat as he rose.

"Good mornin." she said sleepily.

"Morning." Bast purred.

She looked around. "Did you do my work?"

"I've milked the cows and had a firm conversation with the buck. He apologizes by the way." She looked dumbfounded at him. "The goat..." he continued. "That awful beast that bested you yesterday.

"Oh." Her melodic giggle gave Bast goosebumps. "That seems like an eternity ago. Thank you!"

"For the eternity or the talk with your goat?" She giggled again and swatted at his arm. He let her.

He found her braiding her hair by the wash basin after he'd gone up to get hit travel pack..

"Let me" he said and she unraveled what she had done so far. He hummed as he wove an intricate pattern. Women rarely saw their own beauty – and those who did often took it too seriously – but Lillie definitely needed to see that she was far more beautiful then she thought. That's why Bast had decided to show her just that before he left.

"I'm leaving" he told her.

"I know, I wish you'd stay though."

"I know."

"Will you come back?"

"Do you want truth or lies?"

"Lie to me."

"I will be back, one day, my fair Lillie. For you." She smiled and seemed to believe him. He finished his braiding. "Let me show you what I see.." He poured some water in to the basin and as he swept his hand over it the water went still and clearer then any mirror glass.

"How'd you do tha..." She went silent as she looked at her own reflection. She looked regal. Were it not for her homespun clothes she could have been of the faen court. Tears pooled in her eyes as she touched the beautiful braids that framed her face. When she looked up again Bast was gone. She heard a faint sound from his flute and saw the cows jumping and kicking as if it were the first day of spring as they went on their way to their pasture.

Bast found himself eager to meet Kvothe and to be on the road again.. He knew that if he just followed the river he would eventually get to Imre and from there to the University. It wouldn't do to get distracted every time he saw a pretty girl, he thought about Lillie with a smile. But on the other hand he didn't know how long the journey would take. He'd never been one for maps and distances and the drunkard he asked in Tarbean had told him to simpy follow the river, so that is what he had decided to do. With the sun to his right slowly rising he picked up his pipes yet again and thought about what to eat for lunch.


	6. Back and Forth to Imre

The road to Imre was surprisingly shorter then Bast had imagined and the city far smaller. After Tarbean most cities probably looked small though. So, where should he start? Since the stories also told of Kvothe singing and playing the lute in Imre he might as well start looking for him here.

After a few minutes of walking he stumbled on to the Eolian, which jogged his memory. It was still early afternoon and the place didn't look to be crowded, despite this there stood a big man in the door. He looked relaxed but watchful, his big arms crossed over his chest. Bast basked in his appreciative stare as he approached.

"You new in town?" The doorman asked.

"Yes.. But I'm not staying, just traveling though. Looking for a friend…"

"Let me guess… Dark hair, fair skin, goes by the name of D-something?"

"No. Not even close..who? Never mind… I'm looking for Kvothe!"

The big man let out heartily laugh. "Missed him! His not one for staying either."

When Bast didn't answer and the doorkeep turned silent the tension slowly grew.

"So, where might I find him?"

"You friend or foe?"

"What is it to you?" Bast didn't like getting asked a lot of questions, he usually was the one doing the asking.

The doorman stopped being relaxed and stood up to his full hight. "Friend or foe, I asked."

Bast slumped his shoulders and looked down – not because he was intimidated but because he realized that arguing would get him nowhere with this man.

"Neither, sir." He said. "I just wanted to meet the famous Kvothe."

"You won't find him here! Be on your way!"

Muttering under his breath and thinking of the worth of cursing the doorman he slowly walked away. He came to the conclusion that it wasn't worth his time and he turned and made his way towards the university.

He positively hated people who thought they were above him, if they only knew who he really was then they'd know their place! He kicked at a rock as he felt this mornings good mood getting further and further away. He failed to notice the beautiful surroundings and the Way Stone as he crossed a bridge making his slow way to the neighboring city, he soon entered the university grounds.

"You!" he said and grabbed a lanky ung man by the arm. "if I want to find something or someone in this god forsaken place, were do I go?"  
"I dunno. Try the archives?" He ripped his arm back and continued walking.

"And where can I find them?" Bast yelled after him and the man pointed towards a huge gray building next to Bast as he rolled his eyes. Bast decided he hated people who rolled their eyes even more than haughty doormen.

He quickly let go of all thoughts of them both as he stepped in though the doors – this place was huge! How was he supposed to find anything in here?

"Hi there! First time here?" A female voice said to his right.

"Yes. That obvious?"

She laughed and Bast felt his mood get a little better, the laughter of a beautiful woman was like music to his soul.

"Yes. How can I help you?"

"I'm not sure you can by the look of this place – maybe you can find someone who works here, they'd be able to help."  
She laughed again "I work here."

"Why?" Bast was truly confounded, why would anyone young enough to enjoy the world choose to say cooped up with dusty old books, he thought this was work for grumpy old men.

She tilted her head and seemed to try and figure out if he was messing with her, finally she simply said that she liked it. Bast shook his head at that. "Well then... I am looking for Kvothe."

She blinked. "Why?"

"I want to meet him."  
"Why?" He couldn't tell if she was curious, scared or dumbfounded.

"Because I want to. Why does everyone have to bother me with questions? Just tell me where I can find him or point me to someone that might know where he is." His eyes flashed bright blue and she shied back.

"I don't know. You won't find him here. He left!" She crossed her arms and tried to keep her voice firm and steady.

"Fine!" Bast threw his hands up in frustration and left the archives.

He never thought it would be so much work trying to find a man who knew everything, or close enough. He should've stayed in one place so that people could come and find him – like the Cthaeh, everyone knew where to find it and its tree – even though nobody wanted to visit. And why were people on the offensive? Didn't they know and like Kvothe? Manlings! He needed a drink!

There weren't any seedy enough parts on the university side of the river so Bast sourly made his way back towards Imre and a bar, if he was gonna get a drink he might as well go to a bar where he could pay or threaten people to tell him where Kvothe was, since he didn't seem to be able to get any answers the nice way.

...

He slammed through the doors of a bar with no apparent name.

"I need a drink and information!" He declared loudly, either they'd tell him or they wouldn't. He room stared at him. "Anyone?"

They all looked away except for one man so Bast made his way over to his table.

When the man didn't say anything Bast sat down and said "I need to find Kvothe!"

"You're looking awfully loud."

"So?"

"That's not usually how you go about looking for people in these parts."

"And why should I care? Do I look like I belong in these parts?"

The man studied him. "No."

"So. Kvothe."

"It's gonna cost you."

Bast didn't answer, he just stared at him.

"Well, you're no fun. Five talents."

"I've got non of your money to spare."

"My money?" He looked confused then shrugged. "Favours then."

The barkeep came over with some foul looking liquid. Bast eyed it but didn't drink.

"Well, what do you do, what can you offer?"

"Information."

"About what?"

"The Fae!" Bast had a smug smile as he let part of his glamour go, his blue eyes staring in to the man sitting opposite him.

"Bah! Faeristories and blue eyes? This is Imre, lad, we're not fooled by university magic!"

Bast was actually surprised, most people got scared when faced with one from the Fae, this man was obviously fearless or very stupid. Bast thought he latter more likely.

"You're obviously not use to this kind of trading" the man went on. "How about this… You deliver a message for me and I'll direct you to someone who might know where your fella is."

"Might?"

The man shrugged.

"Fine!" Bast rolled his eyes. "What it the message and were do I deliver it?"

"The message is 'no!' And it's to be delivered to a gaelet."

"That's it? And that's worth five talents?" Bast snorted. "Who's this gaelet?"

"That's none of your concern, all you have to do is deliver the message. My friend here will show you the way." He gestured to a small man sitting at the neighbouring table.

"Fine." He said again. "Who's this person who 'might' know where Kvothe is?"

"Nah-ah.. Not until you've done your part."

Bast eyes flashed as he quick as lightning grabbed the mans wrist, leaned over the table and said with a low voice. "I do what I say and I hope you'll deliver too. What I do to people who try to fool me is not something you'll want to experience." This time the man had the sense to look properly scared. As Bast stood to leave he said "And keep the drink, my piss would taste and look better."

He disliked playing by the manlings rules. The game was so much more fun when he was the one directing it. But then again, that took time and planning. It wouldn't be difficult to dance after their pipe for a while if it would get him to Kvothe quicker. He let the small man take the lead as they made their way to the gaelets place.


	7. The Devil

It didn't take them long to get there. As the small man silently pointed to a door Bast waved him away, there was no need to keep him around anymore. He knocked at the door, it open slightly and a beautiful face popped into his line of sight. "Yes?" It said.

"You're a gaelet?"

"Yes!"

"What is wrong with this place? First I find a woman with an old mans job and now I find you working as a moneylender." He studier her.

"Do I know you?"

"Do you want to? It can be arranged."

She snorted. "You come here talking as if you know me, what gives you the right? What do you want?"

"Why so defensive? I merely thought you too beautiful to be working with something most people associate with bulky, burly men. And for what I want…" He looked intensely at her.

"Men!" She sighed, closed the door and unhitched a latch. "Come in!"

"I agree!" He said as he stepped in.

"Agree? To what?"

"The sighing at men." He smiled cunningly. "I find that the Fae folk is much more desighreable."

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" She gestured for him to sit down and went to take her place across a desk.

Bast shrugged, still smiling. "Perhaps not."

"Oh, don't try to be mysterious with me. I've had enough with those type of clients. Just tell me how much we're talking about here."

"Oh, I'm not here to lend money. I'm..."

"Look, you creep." she interupted. " What ever they told you about my services they're lying. I'm not a hore nor will I ever be."

Bast looked stricken. "No, I don't think so either" he said eyeing her. "No, I'm here to deliver a message."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I didn't get the chance."

"No, perhaps you didn't" She smiled looking a tad guilty. "I'm sorry, there are people trying to undermine my work. They don't like it that I'm good at what I do. I guess it puts me on edge. So, tell me, what is the message?"

"No."

"What? Just tell me."

"No. That's the message. Just 'no'". It took a few seconds and then all hell broke lose. Bast heard swearing in at least five different languages, there was stuff flying across the room and he could of sworn that the water in her drinking glass turned on fire.

When finished, she cleared her throat. "Sorry."

Bast smiled.

"Not very lady like of me."

"I stopped expecting that when you opened the door."

Her eyes flashed "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"That there is more to you then one might think, you're more than just a pretty face." He looked appreciatively at her. "But I don't think you're a stranger to using that face if needed either."

"Okey. Enough. Why are you delivering messages for that scumbag? And did he tell you why it was a 'no'? I offered him more than a fair price."

"He promised me information I want in return for delivering a message. I was even shown where to deliver it. The scumbag probably thought you'd set him on fire and decided to send me instead."

Her eyes flashed towards the glass."Well, my time spent at the university isn't exactly a secret, it's what keeps most of my clients in check. You're lucky I like you."

"I couldn't have guessed."

"That I like you or that I went to the university?"

Bast just smiled at that, thinking to himself that she _was_ lucky he liked her – his patience was running low. Even though he had a soft spot for banter and beautiful women.

"So.. What information is it that you are looking for?" Her eyes had a dangerous gleam to them.

"Why are you asking?"

"It is in my interest to know what my competitors are doing."

"Would you perhaps be doing one of your competitors?"

"Don't be crude. I don't even know your name."

"Bast. And you didn't answer my question."

"What's it short for? Bastard?" She smiled. "And why should I answer that?"

"Now who's being crude? All I am trying to do is to decide wether I want to be your competitor or not. But if your are going to insult me to my face perhaps I at least should know your name before deciding."

"Devi"

"Short for Devil?"

She laughed. "Guess I had that coming. So are we going to keep this up all day or are you actually going to tell me something?"

"I gave you my name." She merely stared at him as he smiled.. "Alright. I do like you more than that scumbag so I'll tell you. I'm looking for Kvothe."

She made a noise that was something in between a snort and a laugh. "He's more trouble then he's worth. What do you want with him?"

"I told you. I want to find him."

"But why?"

Bast shrugged. "I'm curious."

"About..?"

"If he is who the stories say he is. And if he knows everything there is to know."

"What if I tell you he isn't."

"I can tell by your eyes that your lying."

She looked taken aback. "Fine. He's more, but not in the way you think!"

Bast laughed. "Okey. I get it."

She huffed. "No you don't. Let's say I know of a way to contact him, what's it worth to you?"

He smiled a secret smile.

When the smile and the silence got a bit to much Devi laughed. "Well, come on! Don't play coy!"

"Information about the Fae." He said for the second time today.

"Not good enough. Teach me some faerie magic!"

Bast feigned mild surprise "What makes you think that I've got something to teach?"

"You aren't what you seem either, Bast."

"No I'm not. But I'm not sure you'd accept what I'd prefer to teach."

"And what would that be?"

He smiled. She blushed.

"Not many are able to get you to blush, I'm guessing."

"What makes you think I need to be taught?"

He laughed "I'll let you teach me something too if that makes you more comfortable."

She took a deep breath and shook her head as if to clear it. "Those are some pretty strong suggestions you're making."

"I told you that you might not accept it."

"I'm not sure it's a wise thing to do."

"Wise? That I am certainly not! Getting tired of games and searching- yes! So tell me and tell me quick – how do I find Kvothe?"

"You don't. He finds you."

"And where might he find me?"

She shrugged. "Up to him, not me, obviously."

"And my other offer?"

"I thought I was the negotiator."

"I'm getting tired of getting nowhere so I'm changing the rules. Tell him, don't tell him. Do you want me to stay or not?"

She just blinked at him!

"Manlings!" He threw his arms in the air. "Why won't any one answer my questions? How hard can it be?" He stood up. "No, no, don't get up. I'll show my self out." He turned and left, Devi still blinking not quite understanding what just happened.


	8. Laid Bare

Bast was angry. No, he was furious. Probably a lot more than was justified considering his situation. But he was so frustrated! How hard could it be to find this Kvothe? People obliviously knew who he was. What would it take? He needed some kind of plan.

After storming out from the gaelet he had just kept walking and walking. He stopped suddenly as he found himself at the outskirts of the forest. He hadn't thought about where to go but instead let his frustration fuel his steps. Realizing were he was brought a frown to his face as he thought of how manlings sometimes said "a forest", like there were several different ones. It was like saying "a nature". Stupid manlings. Like Nature was several parts and not one whole. Like the manlings held dominion of it all - and not Nature. Maybe the Suns' comings and goings had fried their brains. It was understandable after all. Bast let go of some of the anger, the manlings couldn't help that they were stupid little creatures. But the gaelet though... She'd been beautiful and clever. He acknowledged that part of his anger came from being turned down. That was not something he was used to.

He sat down on a uprooted tree with a sigh, trying to stop his thoughts from chasing each other. He looked up and noticed his surroundings. He was in a clearing in a beautiful leafy part of the forest. It smelled of moss and flowers and Bast drew deep breaths. The moon was rising as he sat there and he suddenly felt homesick. This world, the manlings' realm, where so dull and grey and it was like they all were asleep. How did they find meaning in their life when it was all so dull? When they were so dull? So non-seeing? He picked absently at the tree with his fingernail as he mused. "A plan..." He said out loud. "A plan?" He seemed to ask the moon. Perhaps his plan should be to not have a plan? Or to go home? Or to keep searching? But where?

He eventually stood up and stretched in a cat like manner. He looked up at the moon. "The plan is to make a plan tomorrow." He nodded and then started to walk again. He thought about an old lover of his who used to say that he had a fickle mood. He smiled to himself - how blind the manlings were. How unknowing and.. He searched for a word.. Flat? No, level?

What was the fun in that? Dull, blind and level. He thought about his lover some more, remembering a not so dull time, as he made his way through the forest.

He soon came to a rather large brook and decided he needed a wash. He didn't have any plans until tomorrow and he could be as fickle and impulsive as he wanted to. As he stripped of his clothes he hung them in a nearby tree making sure not to get any dirt on them. He basked in the moonlight a while, simply enjoying her company. Then as he stepped down in to the water he gave up all pretense and let go of his glammorie, longing to feel like himself again. His hooves were steady and secure on the rocky bottom as he made his way a bit further down stream. He sat down without any flare, the water reaching to his ribs. Reaching down he grabbed a hand full of sand and started scrubbing. He hummed a manling song about a lady in a tub as he methodically washed.

When he was done he got up, shook like a dog and then sat down at the base of the tree were he hung his clothes. Even with the company of the moon he soon grew bored and went to get his pipes.

He greeted the moon, telling her of this realm and manlings and asking if she was man or fae, neither or both. He stopped thinking about what and how he played. He simply felt and played his feelings. He told her of his home sickness, of his wanderlust and restlessness. He lost track of time and space as he played. The song turned from happy to sad, from lilting to eerie. Eventually he told her what was buried deep in his heart. He told her of loneliness and longing and of his deep sadness of not having a home, of not belonging anywhere.

A twig snapped. Bast jumped to his feet and turned towards the noice. It was a man. No, a boy. In a heartbeat Bast turned and ran, startled as a dear. He felt naked in more ways than one as he ran through the forest.


	9. Music of the Soul

It was a long while before Bast stopped running. He hadn't felt so naked and exposed since being a kid in the faen court. As soon as he stopped his thoughts caught up with him. Had there been tears on the boys face or was that his imagination running wild? Suddenly he laughed. What must the boy have thought at hearing and seeing him in the forest? Bast was no stranger to nudity and was in no way shy but manlings' sense of what was proper were often taken to extreme levels. And him being of the fae – what would the boy make of that? The laugh turned in to a chuckle and once again Bast sat down on the nearest rock to take in his surroundings.

As he looked up through the leaves and located the few stars he could see, he realized that he had run quite far. It didn't matter though, he could easily make his way back. The thought of going back made him realize the other aspect of his nudity – not simply the fun part in shocking a manling – but also that being nude was a consequence of leaving his clothes behind. Not that it was a huge problem, he could always acquire new ones, but that would take time and effort. So he stood and started to make his way back to the brook. He thought again of the boy and tried to remember if he had seen tears on his cheeks. His eyesight was exceptional but he had been startled. As the moon had started her decent his pace was slow and careful.

The closer to the brook Bast came the more he felt embarrassed about running away. What was that about? The picture of the stricken boy and the sadness and sympathy that his eyes had held came before him again. Perhaps it was the look in the boys' eyes that had made him want to run. He felt like someone had looked in to the deepest part of his heart – parts he rarely visited himself. Bast shook his head as if to clear it. As he made his way out of a particularly dense part of trees and bushes he sighted the brook in the distance. He stopped. Someone had lit a fire not far from where he left his clothes.

Soft music floated through the forest. Bast instantly recognized it as a lute and realized that it was coming from the same direction as the fire. He slowly and silently crept up to the tree where his clothes hung, the music grew stronger as he came closer. As he put his clothes on he tried to focus enough to put up his glammorie again – but the music burrowed its way in to his heart. It spoke of loneliness, of heartbreaks, of being old and young – but most of all it spoke of not belonging. He almost sobbed as he admitted those feeling inside himself.


End file.
